


Rule of Three

by jyongdae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Eating Disorders, First Kiss, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Kissing, M/M, Platonic Kissing, broken home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9980213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyongdae/pseuds/jyongdae
Summary: Prompto Argentum is a boy with a handful of demons locked up tight, tight, tight, in his chest. His new friends keep accidentally poking them through the gaps in his ribs, but they kiss the bruises better.[Prompto's first kisses.]





	

1.

 

His _first_ first kiss is with Noctis.

They're in the play park near Noctis' apartment, the small one with the big trees all around. It's that special part of the day that's just past the afternoon but hasn't yet hit early evening. When Prompto thinks back on it, he remembers the dappled orange pink streaking through the leaves onto soft tarmac. The time of day where everything feels like it's slowing down just a little.

He and Noctis are sat on the swing-set side by side, looking through the photos on Prompto's camera. It's quiet. It's nice.

“And this is- did I tell you? My neighbour's cat had kittens! This is the littlest one, isn't she so _cute!_ ”

He's swinging lightly so Noctis has to lean right over to be able to see the camera screen.

“Yeah, she's cute,” he says, but Prompto knows he barely saw anything more than a blur. “Are you allowed to keep one?”

“Ah,” Prompto's fingers falter on the camera for a moment. “I don't know. I don't really know my neighbours that well …”

“Then how did you get the photo?” Noctis asks curiously, head tilting to one side.

“The kittens keep climbing under the fence in the garden,” Prompto laughs, light and easy. “I keep having to squish their butts back under before they get into trouble.”

Noctis snorts at that and pleased, Prompto swings a little higher.

“These are from yesterday,” Prompto says, flicking through some more, but he's swinging higher and there's no chance Noctis can see them even a little bit.

“Hey, I can't see,” he says, reaching out to grab onto Prompto's wrist to keep him from swinging so high and it makes Prompto's swing twist weirdly and now his seat is swaying in all kinds of directions so Noctis just gives up and swipes the camera straight out of Prompto's hand.

“Buddy- Noct!” Prompto cries out, trying to steady his swing without flying out of it, with no help whatsoever. Noctis is too busy fiddling with the camera now.

“Wow, this is the same one you've had forever,” he says, looking it over.

“Haha, yeah, well, we can't all live like royalty, y'know,” Prompto jokes, watching Noctis flick through his photos. It's awkward watching him with them, and a strange feeling washes over him, like he's sharing something personal, but he shrugs it off, looks out over the park instead. It's mostly pictures of pretty trees and other people's pets. He listens to the little clicks of the plastic button and Noctis' occasional soft noises as looks through. He relaxes and starts to swing a little again, gently this time, just enough to let the soles of his shoes drag lightly along the ground.

It's not until he doesn't hear that little _click_ for a while that Prompto realises where that initial unsettling feeling in his stomach had come from in the first place.

“Hey what are you looking at?” he asks, turning back to Noctis. His head's down and his hair is falling over his eyes and Prompto can't see his expression and the lowering sun is glaring off the camera viewfinder so Prompto leans over to get a better look and-

Noctis leans out of Prompto's reach when he snatches for the camera.

“Give that back,” he demands, tries to, his voice is shaking from surprise and the suddenness of feeling a lot of emotions all at once and not having the time to decipher or sort them.

Noctis looks at him from his swing. He looks back to the viewfinder in his hand.

“Please can I have that back,” he asks again, voice almost a whine. He's twisted around in his seat so he has a leg on either side and it's easier for him to lean forward to try and grab his camera back but Noctis just evades him again. “It's not- that's not-”

Prompto knows what Noctis has found. He doesn't know the exact photo, but he knows what it is. Noctis must have reached Prompto's most recent photo and clicked for the next and that would have brought him right back round to the last photo stored on the camera and it just happened to be one of _those_. One of Prompto's daily morning progress shots.

He can feel the heat rise to his cheeks out of embarrassment and shame and more than a little fear that this might be it, he might have come all this way only for Prince Noctis to find out that he's a fraud and now he won't want to hang out with him or be his friend and it was all a waste and he feels so _stupid_ -

He can feel the walls going up. Noctis had been looking at that photo so _intently_ , Prompto's torso in his bedroom mirror, all pale skin and ribs, and Prompto already knows, he _knows_ he's still got a long way to go before he'll be like everyone else, before he'll be acceptable, it was stupid to think that he could even approach Prince Noctis like he had, he should never have taken his pity for granted-

“Hey.”

In his moment of panic Prompto hadn't realised that Noctis had shifted closer. He also hadn't realised that his hands had wrapped so tightly around the swing chain in front of him that his knuckles were starting to hurt and he had moisture gathering in his eyes from the sheer humiliation of being caught in the act.

“Hey,” Noctis says again, and his voice is gentle. He's leaning in again, towards Prompto, and Prompto thinks he looks like he's dealing with a frightened animal, the way he's almost cautious as he moves in.

It has Prompto instinctively leaning back in his own swing, but Noctis reaches out and puts his empty hand over Prompto's to pull his swing in towards him again. This time he doesn't leave Prompto to freefall and instead shoves Prompto's camera in his trouser pocket so that he can reach across to Prompto's swing, enough to catch the lapel of Prompto's school jacket and pull him in a little closer.

The press of Noctis' lips against Prompto's is gentle. A barely there press of skin against skin. Prompto is so surprised by it that he hiccups and immediately moves to push Noctis away, and Noctis lets him, adjusting his hand to free Prompto's but to keep a hold on his swing chain to keep him close.

He smiles, and it's honest.

Prompto still feels nervous, but mostly confused now, and he's sure that Noctis can see all of this on his face when he leans in again, gently presses his forehead to Prompto's for just a second before tilting up and pressing his lips to the same spot.

He still has that soft smile on his face as he lets Prompto's swing go, let's him sway back and stands up himself. He pulls the camera back out of his pocket and hands it back to Prompto, who again, is trying not to fall out of his erratic swing.

Prompto realises that the wetness at his eyes had, in fact, manifested as tears and is scrubbing at his face self-consciously as his swing slows to a stop.

“You know, you should only change yourself for you, Prom,” Noctis says, gently. His tie is loose around his neck, his skin streaked orange pink. He holds out a hand. “C'mon. Let's go home.”

 

2.

 

His second first kiss is with Gladiolus.

Prompto still isn't sure how he feels about Gladio. He likes him, he thinks. He's been helping Prompto with his self-defence training, so that he can go with Noctis to Altissia, which Prompto is hugely grateful for but he's still a little. Scary.

It's his size maybe? Prompto isn't short, but Gladio is a big guy. A big big guy. Sparring with him is like sparring with a solid wall. So the more Gladio helps him with his training, the less it feels like a favour and the more it feels a little bit like a punishment.

“C'mon, up you get,” Gladio says as Prompto falls to the ground with a soft _oof_ again. He says it lightly but his voice is deep and gravelly and Prompto swears that he can almost feel it vibrating through the hard wood floor below him.

Maybe that's it. Prompto's been friends with Noctis for a few years now, but … it's still just been the two of them. It's been good, great, more than Prompto could ask for and more than he ever excepted to have, but outside of Noctis, Prompto still doesn't really know what he's doing when it comes to socialising. It's gotten easier. He chats with their classmates at school and he makes small talk with cashiers at the supermarket, but without Noctis there it gets somewhat harder.

And Gladio is more than a little intimidating.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scrambling back to his feet. He tries to ignore the ache in his shoulders from holding the sparring sword for so long. It's not even a real sword, it's just wood. He needs to get stronger.

He straightens his stance. Gladio looks him over, and Prompto feels his cheeks burn as Gladio's eyes check his form. The feeling of people looking at him, his body, still makes his stomach roll and neck itch. It's heavy, and when he adjusts his feet under the weight of it, Gladio catches it. His eyes narrow just a little and then he's moving in.

He's big,and strong, and while Prompto is fast, he's still thinking about Gladio's eyes on his exposed collarbone and his feet are sluggish so he instead brings his own sword up over his head, braces himself for impact. It comes, and Gladio swings his sword down hard and the sound of wood hitting wood is loud, crashing through Prompto's ears enough to leave him dazed. His head is ringing and he tries to move to roll away but he misses how Gladio's foot has reached out past his own and it pulls back, swiping Prompto's legs out from under him and he's on the floor. Again.

He hits the floor and the wind is knocked out of his chest, leaving him gasping and curling in on himself. Somewhere over him, he hears Gladio sigh.

He doesn't look up right away. Gladio must be getting frustrated by now. They don't usually get far into their sparring matches before Gladio gets at least a little frustrated. It usually starts with a tightening of the muscles in the face and then spreads down through his arms, his torso, making each of his attacks faster and harder. Prompto winces at the prospect.

Noctis has told him that it gets better. Gladio's a good sparring partner and a good teacher. It just takes getting past the basics. Ha. The basics. Prompto's been in training for weeks now. He drops a hand over his face.

“Hey.”

He goes to move his hand but doesn't want to see how big Gladio looks over him when he's on the floor. He also doesn't want to get chastised about how absolutely shit he is today.

Gladio nudges his foot.

Prompto whines.

“Prompto."

His whine escalates in both pitch and volume and he is only moderately embarrassed.

“Prompto, look at me,” Gladio says, and Prompto notes that he doesn't sound mad. When his hand slips from his eyes, his breath cuts short a little. Gladio looks like a _titan_ from this angle. He's tall and broad and dark and despite having to exert little to no effort to take Prompto down, there's a sheen of sweat pitching light off of his ridiculous muscles and Prompto would really like to take photos of this guy some time. He can't breathe.

He opens his mouth to say something, to apologise for wasting Gladio's time, say that he'll try to be better, _he's always trying to be better_ , but the words get lost somewhere. His head _really_ hurts.

“You're distracted,” Gladio says simply. He steps closer to Prompto and it puts him under the practice room light so he's silhouetted and Prompto can't see his face. His voice is even. “Why?”

“Sorry,” Prompto says, shifting to prop himself up on his elbows. The ache in his shoulders flare at the movement and he screws his eyes shut against it.

Gladio snorts. When he speaks next, his voice sounds closer, softer.

“Nah, I am. I've been beating you up pretty bad, huh?”

Prompto opens his eyes and they grow wide in surprise at how close Gladio is. He's knelt down beside him, his practice sword on the floor by his feet.

Prompto flushes now that he can see that Gladio's looking at his body again and he fidgets when he registers Gladio's soft words, realises that Gladio's eyes have fallen onto the bare stretch of skin that shows where Prompto's vest hangs loose on him. There's a bruise there, high on his ribs, rich purple and Prompto can see that Gladio knows it's from their last session.

But he's not looking away and his brow is creasing and Prompto starts to feel exposed and that uneasy sensation in his gut is bubbling up again and he goes to move away, duck out from under the attention and reach for his practice sword, he'd rather go another round than feel those eyes on him for another moment but then, again, like always, Gladio is faster.

He reaches out and his hand cups Prompto's cheek and before Prompto can process what's happening, Gladio is kissing him. It barely lasts a moment but it feels much longer and all Prompto can think is how unexpected this is. He feels small in Gladio's hand, but his fingers and lips are gentle and somehow that makes Prompto feel even smaller. He briefly wonders just how hard he hit his head.

When Gladio pulls back, there's a wry look in his eye and he laughs, probably at the alarmed look in Prompto's. He moves back to stand and puts a hand out to pull Prompto to his feet. Prompto hesitates.

“I said I'm sorry, didn't I? Now get your ass up. Or do you want me to say sorry again?” he says with a smirk, leaning back down, eyebrows wagging.

Prompto scowls as he stands up by himself, grabbing his sword and pushing at Gladio's chest. Gladio laughs again. He's decidedly less intimidating. Prompto is warming to him. Or maybe it's Gladio that's warming to Prompto.

“Whatever, big guy. Time to level up. I'm gonna kick your ass this time.”

 

3.

 

His third first kiss is with Ignis.

Prompto is more sure than he was with Gladio that he likes Ignis from the get-go. They first met after school, when Noctis had invited him around to play video games and they had walked through the front door to find Ignis making dinner. It had surprised Prompto. He wasn't used to walking into a home and actually finding a person there. It felt nice though. The smell of broth simmering on the stove was welcoming, filling the apartment with spice and warmth.

“Noctis. If I had known that you were bringing a guest I would have prepared more.”

Ignis is essentially Noctis' mother, Prompto soon decides. Ignis is often at Noctis' when Prompto visits and more often than not he's cooking or cleaning and for a long time it was hard to define Ignis' relationship to Noctis. The dynamics of royalty and the people that serve them is confusing territory so for the most part Prompto doesn't think about it. But from what Prompto can gather, if Ignis' nagging is anything to go by, he's his mother.

There's something about that that makes Prompto's chest clench a little as he watches them, Ignis brandishing a wooden spoon as he scolds Noctis for not doing his homework, while Noctis rolls his eyes and pulls his school tie off, dropping it on the floor as he moves into the lounge, deliberate and antagonising. The familiarity of the situation is obvious, it's clearly a long-established arrangement and Prompto feels for Noctis. And a little for himself.

When they bicker about the rules of homework before video games and guests being present so homework can wait - _“I didn't bring Prompto over to do homework, Ignis.”, “I am well aware that you do not intend to finish your homework tonight and yet I know that you have deadlines due tomorrow, so the case still stands.”, “Ughhh.”_ \- Prompto watches them, amused and slightly dazed. He finds himself readily agreeing to doing his homework with Noctis, if not to sooner check out his HDTV, then simply out of a notion to please Ignis. It's not dissimilar to how he felt when he first approached Noctis at high school, or the first time he met a sparring blow with Gladio.

When Prompto goes home, his house feels hollow and quiet and he's never been afraid of his own shadow, but.

As he and Noctis grow closer, he starts spending more time around his place. He has grown accustomed to the sounds of people moving around him and the more he settles into Noctis' house, the less he seems to feel like he has a place in his own. The more his chest feels tight when Ignis folds Noctis' dry laundry.

Given that the reason that both Prompto and Ignis are ever at Noctis' in the first place is, naturally, to see Noctis, means that they are rarely left alone together for more than a few minutes. Whenever it happens, it's usually pretty awkward. After all, both of their attentions are usually on Noctis when the three of them are together.

Ignis is in the kitchen, vegetables frying and rice cooker bubbling while he looks through Noctis' fridge.

The smell has Prompto's stomach growling but he just adjusts how he's sat, tries to lean so he can dig his elbow into the ache without being obvious about it.

“Noct,” Ignis calls to the table.

Noctis' nose is in a textbook, literally pressed against the paper, as if he thinks being closer to the words will help them stick better.

“Mn.”

“Where is the pork?” Ignis asks.

“What?” Noctis lifts his head and there's a blue ink smudge on his cheekbone. Prompto sees it when he looks away from the TV for a split second and snorts.

Prompto's gotten into the habit of doing his homework during his lunch breaks at school to free him up for optimal gaming time while Noctis suffers under Ignis' watchful eye. Noctis could have done his homework at school too, if he hadn't been napping, Prompto thinks.

“The pork I left in the fridge yesterday. It seems to have disappeared,” Ignis says.

“Oh, yeah. You see that pan next to the sink? The one with the- yeah, that one. That black stuff on it? Pork,” Noctis says with a shrug.

Ignis closes his eyes for a moment and Prompto doesn't need to look away from the cross-hairs on the TV to know that Ignis is pressing a finger to his temple. He holds his tongue.

“Well, at least you're trying,” Ignis says lightly. “I need you to go to the store and get some more.”

“But-”

“I have to keep an eye on dinner, lest it ruin.”

“Can Prom-”

“Nope,” Prompto calls from the sofa. “I am literally about to smash your high score, I ain't moving, sorry buddy.”

“Not even for company?” Noctis whines.

Prompto looks up and sees Noctis' pout, a rare expression on him, and basks in it.

“Nah.”

“Alright. I'll get the pork. By myself.”

He slips his shoes on and a jacket and Prompto blows him a kiss goodbye and then the door clicks shut and that's the moment Prompto realises that he's alone with Ignis. His eyes are on the game on the TV but this sudden awareness makes him self-conscious and he starts taking damage hard. Which, really, just makes him more self-conscious after gloating to Noctis.

Every now and then he hears the sizzle as Ignis stirs the frying vegetables.

It's a comfortable silence, Prompto thinks. Just the sound of food cooking and innocent NPCs being gunned down in their prime filling the space between them, but Prompto doesn't have much experience being alone with someone, especially in silence, so he lets his character bite it and drops the controller onto the sofa beside him as the screen drips red.

He pulls himself up and, despite his better judgement, moves over to the kitchen island, where Ignis is idly flicking through a recipe book. He looks up as Prompto approaches.

“Smells good,” Prompto offers, somewhat awkwardly. It really does though, it has Prompto's mouth watering and stomach aching harder than before and he probably should have stayed in the safety of the lounge.

“I'm glad you think so,” Ignis says and his voice takes on a tone Prompto hasn't heard before. But he's mostly only ever heard him fussing over Noctis anyway. He smiles at Prompto and Prompto is surprised and suddenly doesn't know what to do with his hands. He opts for scratching the back of his head.

There's a long moment and Prompto wishes that he had gone with Noctis to the store now, wishes that he would hurry and get back soon because Ignis is looking at him in a certain way and Prompto is starting to think that maybe if Noctis doesn't hurry up Ignis is going to put _him_ in the oven.

“Would you like to try some?” Ignis asks instead, making Prompto jump. Ignis laughs a little, a small laugh, and it's nice. “It has just occurred to me that for all the times that you have stayed for dinner, you haven't actually had dinner.”

It's true. Mostly when Prompto comes over, he stays until dinner's ready to serve and then excuses himself to go home, no matter how delicious it looks. If he can't get out in time then he makes an excuse about a late meal being cooked at home and occupies himself with going over his school notes while they eat. He feels his finger twitch, as though he were clicking the capture button on his camera, and he instinctively takes a step back.

“Oh, no, that's okay, really-” he stammers, and then kicks himself because Ignis' expression has changed now and while he doesn't look offended, Prompto feels like that's the expression of someone that _knows_ something. He doesn't feel like he's avoided being eaten just yet.

“Well,” Ignis says delicately. He's schooled his face into something much gentler. Warm. “You are more than welcome, if you change your mind.”

Prompto exhales then, and grounds his feet firm and flat on the ground. He hadn't realised that he had been leaning quite so obviously away from him.

“It really does smell good though,” he says meekly. An awkward apology. “I didn't mean to offend you, or anything.”

“It's fine,” Ignis says. “Although you can probably afford to treat yourself every once in a while, no?”

Prompto blinks.

“When was the last time you ate?” Ignis asks, turning the heat of the stove down low.

Was it that obvious? Was he that transparent?

“I, uh … I don't know … yesterday, I think?” He tries hard not to wring his hands in the sleeve of his school blazer. His throat is closing.

“Dinner?”

“Um … lunch … at school,” Prompto mumbles. Distantly he gets that this is what it feels like to have a mom nag over you, but Ignis' eyes keep flitting to his waist and he knows it's more than just genial fussing.

Ignis clicks his tongue with a raise of his brow.

“Noctis has told me that you have been struggling with your self-defence training?” Ignis asks, and for a moment Prompto thinks he's changed the subject and lets his muscles relax, breaths a little.

He flashes a weak smile.

“Self-preservation has never been a strong point of mine,” he says, managing to stretch his smile a little wider, glad for a change of pace.

“It's no wonder if you aren't eating properly,” he says bluntly and it cuts through Prompto like a spear. Ignis is looking down at the vegetable he's gently stirring again, seemingly unaware of the way Prompto's tensed up, muscles stiff and eyes round.

Prompto has done so well re-arranging himself into what he needs to be, into what everyone else needs him to be, has done so well stitching up all of his wounds and letting them settle into nothing more than scars. Noctis had seen them and he's sure that Gladio had caught a glimpse but this guy is just reaching straight in and pulling at the seams holding him together.

“Don't you think so?” He smiles as he unravels him.

Prompto averts his gaze, and opens his mouth to say something, but his eyes land on the stove and he suddenly feels nauseous and his eyes sting. He feels like a butterfly, pinned and laid bare to be scrutinized and it makes him light-headed.

“I'm- I'm sorry,” he managed to stammer out, still looking away. He doesn't want Ignis to see his eyes watering and can't wipe at them without letting on that there's a high possibility he may cry and he's too busy deliberating on this to register that Ignis has turned the heat off completely and moved around the counter until he's right there in front of him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Prompto,” Ignis says quietly.

Prompto blinks up at him and he can't see, everything's blurry. He remembers Noctis' words to him after he had found his mirror pics and the tears spill over and he starts to get that itchy sensation in the bridge of his nose.

“I spoke out of turn. I assure you that it wasn't my intention to upset you,” he says, whispers really, and he sounds genuinely sorry. Prompto feels as Ignis' hands come up to cup Prompto's chin.

Through the slip and slide of Prompto's demon rolling in his gut, he realises the intimacy of their current predicament. He blinks to clear his eyes just in time for Ignis to obscure his vision by gently pressing his lips to where a tear has come to rest at the edge of Prompto's lip.

He should be used to this by now. When he first set out to befriend Noctis he hadn't expected to be on the receiving end of so many gentle displays of affection and somehow, they're still taking him by surprise. He doesn't deserve it.

His breath is somewhere between a sigh and a crying shudder and another few tears fall as Ignis pulls away. He gently swipes through them with his thumbs, hands still cradling Prompto's face.

“There, there,” Ignis says. He lets Prompto's face go and Prompto starts rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, embarrassed. _Again_. This keeps happening. “I just wish that you would take proper care of yourself, Prompto. You may not know this, but we have all grown rather fond of you.”

At that, Prompto peers up at Ignis, through his fingers and red-rimmed eyes.

“Really?” he asks, trying and failing to suppress a hiccup.

Ignis nods and an overwhelming warmth runs through Prompto and it feels like a salve on his wounds. He can't help himself, he pushes himself into Ignis' chest and wraps his arms around him in a hug and then he's crying again, all over Ignis' expensive looking shirt and the front door opens.

“I'm back, and I've got pork-”

Noct halts in the doorway. He takes in the two before him. Ignis, arms around Prompto, seemingly consoling him as Prompto peeks out to Noctis from under an arm, red-eyed and sniffly.

“Ignis. What did you do? I was gone for _ten minutes_ -"

Prompto ducks out from Ignis' arms and puts his own up in a defensive motion, when Noctis moves into the room, slapping a tray of meat onto the kitchen counter.

“Noct!” he greets, too loud, feigning ignorance to the way his voice sounds suspiciously nasal. Noctis is putting his hands on his shoulders and he's still blinking stray tears, but these ones feel softer, don't seem to make his eyes sting so much.

“What's going on here?” Noctis asks incredulously, unconsciously resting a hand to cup Prompto's neck, even as Prompto tries to shrug him off. “Why are you _crying_ -"

“Noctis,” Ignis interrupts. “This is beef.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> blehhh idk how i like this one, it's so obvious that i'm still trying to figure out how to get a feel for writing these losers haaa;;  
> the idea i originally had for this was short and cute!! this was supposed to be a quick and easy fic about prompto getting lots of kisses!! but it just kept getting longer and longer and sadder and sadder hoo boy ;;;;;


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